


a word of caution

by Misty_Reeyus



Series: Fuckbuddies Verse [6]
Category: Tales of Berseria
Genre: F/F, Illusions, Pining, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-12-03 15:56:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11535519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misty_Reeyus/pseuds/Misty_Reeyus
Summary: People can fight against pain, but they can’t fight against happiness.





	a word of caution

**Author's Note:**

> written for [Tales Femslash Week](http://talesfemslashweek.tumblr.com/) > Day 3: Storybook

_“The boundary between dreams and reality is demarcated solely by one’s own heart.”_

* * *

Illusory artes are tricky, tricky business.

Melchior taught Magillanica his little secret to breaking people, back in the day. Use the fog to dig into their dreams. Use those dreams to construct their own perfect fantasy. Give them exactly what they want and watch them fall to pieces just to cling onto the falsehood. Melchior didn’t tell her the exact specifics of the spells, of course, not when he had yet to truly form her into the Shadow he’d always wanted. But what he didn’t teach then, Magilou has since had plenty of time to learn for herself.

After all, it’s been a little over five years since the day the old man kicked the bucket. And _exactly_ five years since the day Velvet Crowe sealed herself away with a god.

So tonight, Magilou strips, splays herself naked atop her bed, and summons a ghost.

Velvet materializes atop her just as bare and beautiful as Magilou remembers, as Magilou could never bring herself to forget. Her arte is the spitting image of the real thing, of course it is—Magilou’s a Mayvin and Mayvins are nothing less than flawless in constructing their illusions. Amber eyes shine gleaming and gorgeous as Velvet crawls up to straddle Magilou to the bed, and so long as Magilou just stares into those eyes, she can pretend she actually _feels_ that friction of another leg brushing against her own, that heat of another’s breath washing over her lips.

“You’re a needy little thing, aren’t you?” Velvet says, voice still that ever familiar low timbre—dry, lightly teasing, _enthralling_. “You’ve gotten yourself all excited, and I haven’t even done anything.”

“Oh, hush,” Magilou tells the girl in her head, not meaning it for even a second. “Just do your job for me, dreamqueen.”

The hand that slides between Magilou’s legs is her own, and in the back of her mind, she knows Velvet wouldn’t be this soft. Velvet would be hard, harsh; her every touch would be _painful_ , the way they both liked it. No matter how accurate this arte depicts her memory, Magilou can’t help if the illusion wavers, if the cruel flickers of reality come seeping in.

Such is the way of things, when you’re casting illusions on yourself. 

It’s not real and Magilou knows it, but it’s still _compelling_ , compelling enough that Magilou _feels_ like Velvet is there. Velvet is there, pressing her thumb over Magilou’s clit, plunging three fingers inside her cunt, fluttering kisses all along her collarbone. It’s just not quite the same as how Velvet was during the journey—Velvet liked being as mean and as forceful as possible, and back then, that was exactly what Magilou liked, too. To be forced to feel something, _anything_ , in this world where her heart had been broken to pieces and everything was just so void, so numb.

The world is no longer quite as numb, though. Magilou wants something now, _cares_ about something now, and she’s going to see that through. But she never would have gotten here if Velvet had not first come whirling into her life as a tornado of vengeance and despair and hate and so much sheer _love_.

So the illusion reaches in and isolates Magilou’s desires as it was designed to, satiates them with touches soft and sweet but persistent, continuing until Magilou shuts her eyes and can no longer muster coherent thoughts. At last, she comes, arching up into the hand that is both her own and yet not, and when she manages to open her eyes again, Velvet is a haze behind a watery lens of vision. Magilou is crying, and as her own non-sticky hand reaches up to wipe away the tears, amber eyes stare her down.

“You’re thinking so hard,” the illusion says, and frowns. “Stop it.”

“Heh. If only I could, darling.” Magilou shifts to cup her palm over the face that’s not actually there, to feel the smooth skin and warm flesh beneath her fingertips as rivers come rolling down her own cheeks. “But you gave me something to live for, Velvet. I have _never_ felt more alive than I did when I was with you.”

Velvet’s heart was a blazing inferno, a bonfire that spread and set sparks alight within Magilou’s own cold, dark chest when she hadn’t thought it possible. From that day forward, Magilou has harbored a flame of her own: one that was small and fragile but nonetheless burned fiercely with the desire to see this through, all of it, and to be with Velvet to the very end.

Ironic, then, that Velvet’s flame of life burnt out well before Magilou’s own. 

“…I know this isn’t real,” Magilou continues, her voice now devolved into series of watery hiccups. “I know, but I’m still doing it to myself anyway.”

“Because you wanted me,” Velvet says, matter-of-fact, gaze piercing right through her. “For more than just the sex.”

Magilou nods, having come to terms with this revelation some few years ago. “I can’t help thinking, if you’d stayed, maybe…” She bites her lip. “Maybe you could have made an honest woman out of me.”

Velvet’s lip quirks up, a half-smile. “Or a _dishonest_ woman in our case, right?”

That makes Magilou burst into giggles, lost and sad and _insane_ giggles, because gods, that sounds just like something Velvet would say, snark and all. Magilou really did make this thing just like Velvet, straight down to the imaginary marrow—and now something in Magilou’s chest clenches because she doesn’t want to let it go. Not again.

“Yep. So v-very dishonest.” Fuck, Magilou’s outright _sobbing_ now, words stuttered and interspersed with uncontrollable heaving gasps. “Can’t even stop lying to _myself_.”

“Well, maybe I was dishonest too,” Velvet murmurs, bending close, black hair tickling over Magilou’s skin in tantalizing phantom touches. “Maybe I wanted to be with you. For more than just the sex.”

“ _Hah_! Now I know you’re a fake.” As if she didn’t already. “Velvet never would have said that to my face.” 

Magilou laughs out loud, except it’s not really laughing but unfettered sobbing, and, and—and _curse her_ for always being like this, for never being able to just settle on one singular emotion anymore when it used to be a hassle trying to feel any at all.

Magilou cackles and cries and does so for who knows how long as the specter of her own design waits patiently, still hovering above her. Once Magilou finally gets a hold of herself, she grins and reaches up to curl her arms around Velvet’s neck, yanks her in and whispers her last against that beautiful, wonderful mouth.

“Thanks for the orgasm, sweetcheeks. Haven’t had one that good in ages.”

Velvet grunts an affirmation before she locks their lips together, and Magilou lets herself be sucked in, lets herself remember that final night they had together before the ultimate battle, that kiss that was both their first and their last. Magilou lets the image linger in her memory, but as her fingers now stroke through Velvet’s hair and she pulls away, she knows it’s over.

“Goodbye,” Magilou sighs, and lets the illusion fade. The hair that was never there slips right through her fingers; the warmth of another body pressed up against hers vanishes until the space above her is cold and empty.

In the back of her mind, a traitorous little voice whispers to her to summon the illusion again, to just let herself keep drowning in the dream. Magilou squashes that voice back down without a second thought.

Indulging in fantasy for too long is exactly what killed Magillanica. She won’t let it be the death of Magilou too. 

Velvet taught her how to feel, how to _care_. Magilou will never forget that, and sure, she misses her, and sure, she summons that figment every now and again because sometimes, she just wants to fill the void. But Magilou doesn’t _need_ Velvet anymore, and she refuses to let the memory of a ghost swallow her up.

So Magilou again wipes the tears from her eyes, presses her fist between each of her sockets until she finally manages to plug the leaks. Once that’s done, Magilou wipes the sticky residue from between her thighs and promises herself she’ll wash the bedsheets later as she hauls herself down to the floor. Walking on her own two legs again, she then sets her bare butt down on the chair before her desk and glances between her quill, her ink bottle, and the still-drying page of a manuscript that’s laid before her.

“You gave me something to live for,” Magilou echoes to the empty room, and she still means it. There’s a whole world out there, a whole future to look forward to, all thanks to what Velvet left them with when she killed Artorius and sealed off Innominat. For Velvet’s sake, Magilou is going to watch this world, and tell its stories, and then hope, hope, _hope_ that someday, they can achieve a better future.

“This is the life I’m living now. A storyteller.” Magilou glances up to the ceiling and chuckles. “I hope someday my stories will do you some sort of justice, oh terrifying Lord of Calamity.”

There is no answer, and Magilou wasn’t expecting one. But at the very least, the silence is pleasant, companionable, as Magilou closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.

“…Welp!” Magilou eventually exhales in conjunction with a clap of her hands, then snatches the quill back up to set to writing the next page. “Back to work.”

**Author's Note:**

> for the time being, i’ll consider this an epilogue of sorts and bookend the fuckbuddies verse here. that’s not to say i’ll absolutely never write for this series again, there’s definitely still some potential for me to slide in a few more brief one-off one-shots, but i feel like i’ve let the arc itself run its due course. 
> 
> if you’ve been following my works in this series, thanks for sticking with, and if you haven’t, maybe you’d like to check them out (wink wink nudge nudge).


End file.
